XXXVl 
LIFE OF WILSON. 
exertions which you have made for their subsistence and support, 
than the bloody catalogue of heroes can boast of. Your own heart 
Avill speak peace and satisfaction to you, to the last moment of 
your life, for every anxiety you have felt on their account. Colo- 
nel Sullivan talks with pride and affection of you. 
“ I wish Alexander had written me a few lines of the old Ger- 
man text. I laugh every time I look at his last letter: it’s a perfect 
antidote against the spleen. Well, Alexander, which is the best 
fim, handling the shuttle, or the axe? When JohnM. comes down, 
write me largely. And, dear sister, let me hear from you also. * * 
“ I would beg leave to suggest to you the propriety of teach- 
ing the children to behave with good manners, and dutiful respect, 
to yourself, each other, and every body. 
“You must excuse me for any thing I may have said amiss, 
or any thing I may have omitted to mention. I am, with sincere 
attachment, your affectionate friend.” 
The foregoing letters place the character of Wilson in the 
most amiable point of view; and they entffely supersede any re- 
marks which I might make upon those social affections that distin- 
guished him through life. 
In his new situation Wilson had many enjoyments ; but he 
had likewise moments of despondency which solitude tended to 
confirm. He had addicted himself to the writing of verses, and 
to music ; and, being of a musing turn of mind, had given way to 
those seductive feelings which the charming scenery of the country, 
in a sensible heart, never fails to awaken. This was a fatal bias, 
which all his efforts could not counteractor remove. His acquain- 
tance perceived the danger of his state ; and one in whose friend- 
ship he had placed strong reliance, and to whom he had freely un- 
burthened himself, Mr. Lawson, the engraver, entertained appre- 
